


Taking pictures of you as the light came through

by allforyoumylove



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Sander feels a bit vulnerable, Sexual Content, robbe is a good boyfriend, their need for touch really comes through, they're both needy and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allforyoumylove/pseuds/allforyoumylove
Summary: Robbe photographs Sander in bed. Things take a steamy turn.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 28
Kudos: 184





	Taking pictures of you as the light came through

**Author's Note:**

> So, season 4 was one long hell week and I couldn’t be happier that it’s over. I am gonna miss sobbe, though, but when am I not?  
> This takes place the weekend right after the car accident. I know it happened like a month ago, but I’ve been writing this ever since. In this, Robbe doesn’t answer those calls from k*to and actually deletes the dancing footage as he should have done smh
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Robbe was there.

He was there yesterday, and he was going to be there tomorrow and the days after that. Robbe had assured him in his typical Robbe form through caresses and gentle brown eyes, and Sander had kissed him, hard, ceaselessly, his heart in his throat at the thought of losing him. He _needed_ him, overwhelmingly so. Couldn’t function without him.

But Robbe was there. Now. In Sander’s bed, lying right in front of him and sleeping soundly. With tired, puffy eyes, Sander counted the small freckles on the back of Robbe’s arm as he had already done multiple times that morning, one, two, three, four. He very gently brushed the shell of his ear, then his earring. He drew small hearts on the base of his neck and top of his spine over his shirt. Because he loved him and missed him and longed for him. But Sander’s touch was light so as not to wake him, letting him sleep for as long as he needed.

_He is here. He is here. He is here._

Sander let it go through his mind like a mantra, drowning out the malignant, irrational what-ifs. Because he was there.

They had taken everything slow since Robbe had arrived at Sander’s a few days ago. The tension, both from the adrenaline and the screaming that had filled the late hours of Robbe’s Friday night, seeped out of his body as soon as he was wrapped in Sander’s arms, in his shirt, his scent.

They talked a lot, Sander’s attentive eyes never leaving Robbe’s, his blood running cold as it dawned on him how bad everything could have gone. He shakily ran his hand up Robbe’s back, over his nape and into his hair, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, and Robbe’s fingers found their way under the fabric of Sander’s t-shirt.

Then they were quiet, Robbe’s head tucked under Sander’s chin, his body half on top of his with Sander’s arms around his shoulders, just breathing together. Without realising, Sander sometimes held his breath just to be able to hear Robbe’s better, and when the younger boy felt his chest stop rising and falling, he tilted his face to catch Sander’s eye.

“Breathe, baby,” he gently reminded him, brushing a fingertip down the bridge of his nose.

And Sander tightened his hold around his boy, inhaling his sweet scent and closing his eyes as Robbe pressed his lips against the corner of his mouth, lingering.

When feeling vulnerable they became their physicality. It was all tender hearts and sleepy eyes watching each other until 2 am. It was miles of October pale skin on soft layers of cotton, it was dark hair, curly and messy, sliding through artist fingers. It was pink and puffy lips mapping chests, the lines of hard ribs, knobs of spines, each of them exploring anew what was already so well-known. Without words they let each other know that words weren’t necessary.

There was sleep. A chest pressing against a back, a hand resting on a stomach. Then a shifted position. A face nuzzling into the crook of a neck, an arm squeezing a waist. Soft breaths blowing into hair and over collarbones. The sense of rest.

There was sex. Loving hands clasped onto hips. Worshipping tongues on inner thighs. White knuckles in sheets. Breathless whispers of _come closer_. Arching backs and names sighed into needing mouths. Lazy kisses, colour-flushed cheeks, and the fingertips of seventeen summers brushing the palms of nineteen springs.

And it was _them_. As always. Taking care of one another.

They spent time in a tangled mess of limbs in Sander’s bed that was all soft pillows and silky duvets. Shutting themselves off from the cruel outside world, they created their own safe sphere consisting only of soft words and warm skin. For the past many, many hours the only voices they had heard were each other’s as they spoke into the small space between their mouths. And both were completely content with keeping it that way for many hours more. Between endless kisses they kept close, their lips brushing at all times.

At one point, as they lay facing each other in the stillness of night, Robbe carding his fingers through Sander’s hair, the gleam of the bedside lamp accentuating the specks of honey in the younger boy’s irises and illuminating the high points of his cheekbones, Sander couldn’t stop a few tears from slipping over the brim of his eyes. He hid his face in Robbe’s neck, feeling too clingy and dramatic and ridiculous, that it wasn’t his place to react the way he was.

But Robbe just drew his face back up to his, caressing his damp skin with his thumbs, kissing him deeply. And Sander gathered him in a tight embrace, fingers digging into his waist, holding him as sleep came to them once again.

Now, as Sander brushed a few strands of hair away from Robbe’s nape, lightly pressing his lips against his neck, Robbe slowly turned, seeking Sander’s body, silently asking him to come to him. Sander hugged his sleep-soft body close, his fingertips stroking the small of his back. Barely awake, they kissed each other in between quiet and raspy “good mornings”, their lips moving languidly, effortlessly. Robbe’s necklace was pulled taut around his neck in his shift of position, and they both reached up at the same time to adjust it. Drowsy grins spread on their faces. Robbe’s hand fell to Sander’s hip, and Sander loosened the chain, placing the angel against his own angel’s chest.

The bedclothes were still a mess from the night before, their sleepshirts wrinkled, and Sander was pretty sure that Robbe’s was inside out. He curled his fingers in it, his heart swelling. A few soft rays of misty morning sunlight fell through the windowpane.

They lay quiet for a bit, sleepy eyes searching each other’s faces. Robbe smiled and rubbed the tip of his nose against Sander’s.

“Hey, you,” he softly said.

“Hi,” Sander breathed.

Robbe’s hand came up to his cheek, the back of his fingers caressing him. “You okay?”

Humming, Sander rested his forehead against Robbe’s. “Yeah.” It came out as a mere whisper. “Just… still feeling a bit fragile,” he added with a shaky little laugh.

Robbe cupped the back of his neck, carding his fingertips through the hair at his nape, knowing how Sander’s brain could run away with him sometimes. “Do you want to talk about it some more?”

Sander lifted his shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. His gaze began to waver, and his lips parted, his shallow breaths only reaching his shoulders.

“Hey,” Robbe said, always so devastatingly attentive and gentle. Taking Sander’s hand, he placed his palm flat against his chest, making Sander feel his steady heartbeat, trying to turn his focus to the present moment. “What are five things you can see?”

The older boy swallowed, his mouth feeling dry as his eyes roamed the room. “Uhm… my easel,” he started, and Robbe nodded encouragingly, squeezing his hand. “My desk,” Sander continued, then turned his gaze to Robbe. “Your brown eyes. Your lips. Your collarbones.”

“And four things you can physically feel?” Robbe asked.

“I can feel your heart. Your fingers in my hair. Your freezing cold toes against my legs,” Sander smiled, and Robbe breathed out a soft chuckle. “And…” Sander moved a bit under the covers, feeling Robbe’s body heat flowing into his bones. “Your stomach against mine.”

Robbe pressed his lips against the corner of Sander’s mouth. “Three things you can hear, sweetie?”

The older boy was quiet for a moment, listening.

“I can hear the wind outside. I can hear my own breathing. And your nice voice when you ask me to name two things that I can smell next,” he said with knowing eyes that crinkled at the corners, having tried this before.

Laughing softly, Robbe asked, “Two things you can smell?”

Sander smiled as he inhaled through his nose. “I can smell us. Does that count for two?”

With heavy eyelids, Robbe nodded. “Sure.”

“I love the smell of us,” Sander quietly added, resting his nose against Robbe’s.

“Me too,” Robbe whispered, licking his lips. “And one thing you can taste?”

Sander closed the gap between them, kissing him deeply, his honey-tongue grazing Robbe’s.

“You,” he murmured.

Robbe smiled against him, his thumb brushing the back of Sander’s hand in soothing motions. 

“See?” he said as he pulled back. “I’m here. And you’re here. We’re here together. In your bed. In your room. It’s windy outside as you said.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “And we had sex last night before we went to sleep. And… and maybe we can again in a few minutes?” he suggested, his big and beautiful brown eyes going straight to Sander’s heart. “Please?”

Sander smirked, nodding.

Interlacing their fingers, Robbe gently let his lips brush Sander’s chin. “I love you. We’re both okay.”

Sander’s eyes flitted over Robbe’s face in astonishment as if he couldn’t believe that Robbe was real, marvelling at how he was always able to meet him where he was, how he held him like he was a precious golden bird between his hands. Taking in a deep breath, Sander felt the air fill up his chest this time.

“I love you too,” he exhaled.

Robbe pulled Sander in by the waist, impossibly closer, placing his hand low on Sander’s back and languidly dragging his hips against his. His fingertips sneaked under the waistband of Sander’s underwear. “I think those minutes are up now.”

“Oh, really?” Sander smiled, his lips on Robbe’s jaw, his nose finding the scent that was so entirely Robbe.

The younger boy nodded. “Want you.”

Last night it had been desperate, on the verge of feverish; dark, craving eyes and wandering hands hastily undressing each other, scorching lips and sharp-edged teeth grazing skin, scattering bruises where only they could find them.

Now they lazily pulled off each other’s shirts and underwear, and Sander wrapped his arms and legs around Robbe as Robbe engulfed him, grounded him, loved him, fucked him slow and deep.

It was unhurried, unpretentious, their bodies still pliant and tender as they took their time with each other, their want guiding them. The air was chilly, so they stayed in the warmth under the covers, in the atmosphere of sleep and heavy eyelids. There were deep sighs and breathless praises swallowed by hot mouths, soothing hands in hair and on skin. There was a golden chain pooling in the hollow at a collarbone, a bottom lip gently being bitten.

And these lazy days filled with lazy, loving sex were Sander’s favourites. Robbe was his favourite.

Afterwards he kept Robbe close, couldn’t stop looking at him, smelling him, touching him, determined to keep him naked and in bed for the remaining hours of the weekend.

They lay with their hands held above them, lacing and unlacing their fingers, running the tips of their fore- and middle fingers against each other, faster and faster, and laughing when they messed up the rhythm.

Leaning in, Robbe peppered kisses along Sander’s jaw, his cheek and chin, making exaggerated kissing noises with every one of them.

“Robbe,” Sander chuckled, and then curled in on himself, trying to cover his middle when Robbe mercilessly began poking his sides.

“Stop, stop, no, _please_ –“ he managed to get out through laughter, before Robbe caught him by his wrists, easily manhandling him onto his back, straddling him and pinning him to the bed. Sander looked up at him with bright eyes and hair sticking up everywhere, his chest rising and falling as he took in air between parted lips. Intertwining their fingers on each side of Sander’s head, Robbe leaned down and kissed him into the mattress, inhaling deeply through his nose.

“You’re so annoying,” Sander mumbled against him, a smile in his voice.

Their teeth knocked together as Robbe barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”

Sander slipped his tongue between Robbe’s lips, distracting him just for long enough to gently disentangle their clasped hands, cradling Robbe’s face instead.

Finishing off with a few chaste pecks, Robbe gently patted his cheek and sat up, his hands sliding down to Sander’s waist.

The older boy’s torso elongated as he stretched out his still drowsy body under Robbe, his lean arms sliding up above his head, his back arching, his mouth, outlined in light red by Robbe’s own, opening in a yawn, and Robbe’s heart tingled.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest boy there is,” he giggled.

Keeping his arms sprawled over his head, Sander smiled softly. “Says you,” he breathed, drinking in Robbe’s dazed expression and thick, messy locks that in the glow of late morning looked as if they were laced with swirls of caramel and bronze, wild like the autumn leaves pirouetting in the gusts of wind just outside the window.

Robbe’s thumb gently stroked Sander’s cheek before he carded his fingers through his wavy hair, nails gently scraping his scalp.

Sander let out an appreciative hum, his limbs going completely lax. The soft Sunday light spilled onto his chest and stomach, embracing him, illuminating the light layer of champagne-glistening sweat and the last remnants of his latest orgasm, and Robbe was absolutely gone for him.

Mesmerised, he slowly trailed the tip of his forefinger in a straight line down Sander’s forehead, between his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose, cupid’s bow, his lips. Sander’s bottom lip softly sprang back up when Robbe’s finger left it, and they both let out quiet laughs. Robbe traced the curve of his chin, lightly brushing down his throat, over his Adam’s apple. He looked like a celestial being with clipped wings, and Robbe wanted to ask him about star clusters and solar systems, how Earth looks from galaxies millions of miles away, because he was sure Sander knew.

“What are you doing?” Sander asked, his voice loving, feeling every nerve ending vibrate in Robbe’s wake.

Robbe shrugged, giggling. “I don’t know. Just admiring you looking all happy and content.” Observing the state of Sander’s neck, finger grazing the steadily growing purple marks that he had scattered on his delicate skin when at his most possessive, he added smugly, “And fucked-out.”

Sander’s mouth spread in a lopsided grin. “I am. All of it.”

The younger boy’s fingertip travelled down between his collarbones, along his sternum, his stomach, before he placed both of his hands on his waist, letting his palms glide all the way back up Sander’s torso, resting firmly on his chest.

A low hum escaped Sander’s throat, his hands coming down to rest on Robbe’s hips, his fingers affectionately digging into his skin.

And Robbe wanted to photograph him, wanted to immortalize him like this – beautiful and human and entirely his.

He brushed his fingers down the line of Sander’s jaw and caught his lips in a light peck. “Just a sec,” he whispered and disentangled himself.

“Robbe, no,” Sander all but whined as his fingers glided down Robbe’s arm and over his palm, trying to keep him close, pouting and frowning cutely when Robbe was too far away to reach.

Robbe walked straight past his backpack with his own camera. He hadn’t touched it since he had tossed it into a corner as soon as he set foot in Sander’s room. Instead, he made his way to Sander’s closet, standing on his tiptoes to rummage through the clutter on the top shelf in search for Sander’s old polaroid camera.

Robbe had teased him with it the first time he saw it.

“ _Are you secretly a cliché teenage girl?”_

_Sander smirked at him, unfazed. “No, thank fuck. Because if I was, I wouldn’t have had a chance with you, and I’d have been miserable for the rest of my life.”_

_And before Robbe could respond to Sander’s dramatic tone, Sander held the camera to his eye, directing it towards him and pressing the shutter button. The camera whirred, ejecting the small photo, and Sander kissed him silly while the image developed, ultimately forgetting about it completely._

The photo of a wide eyed and amused Robbe now hung on the white wall above Sander’s desk. Since then, the camera had sat on the shelf, untouched, and Robbe decided it was about time to dust it off and put it to use.

He crawled back in bed, straddling Sander’s lap once more. The older boy instinctively gripped Robbe’s waist. He looked at the camera in Robbe’s hand and then up at him. “What’s your plan?”

Robbe quirked a brow. “Isn’t that obvious?”

In Sander’s own mind he was meant to be behind the camera, documenting the beauty of his curly-haired muse, not in front of it. He was usually strong-willed, stubborn, but Robbe could bring him to his knees by a single glance, could make him melt into a puddle by the touch of a finger, and as Robbe’s sparkling brown eyes went all pleading, every bit of resistance in Sander’s body vanished like the morning mist. So he let Robbe be his personal photographer for the day, feeling completely boneless and at ease under his weight.

“How do you want me, baby?” he smirked.

Robbe smiled, bending down and pressing his lips to Sander’s in a silent thank you. “Just as you are.”

Sighing in contentment and sinking further into the pillows, Sander comfortably folded an arm behind his head, the other resting low on his chest. He turned his face a bit, as if presenting his neck for Robbe, his expression relaxed and open. He was the most dazzling vision without even trying, and it nearly drove Robbe insane with pride that he had managed to get _him_. Sander gazed out of the window, his eyes following the light, grey clouds floating by in the wind, letting Robbe do what he pleased.

Robbe knew that he was far from being a professional photographer, but it didn’t matter when Sander was art personified, making everything so easy; a faultless muse with his sleep- and sex-tousled hair, the sharp line of his jaw, his slightly oily nose from the many hours in bed, puffy lips, all sculpted by the hands of holy beings. The childhood scar by his eye. His ear, his perfect ear that didn’t know how perfect it was. His body made of stardust and metal and lightning and endless amounts of love.

Late morning light seeped into Sander’s green irises. His eyelids fluttered closed every now and then. Holding the camera to his eye, Robbe clicked, capturing Sander in all his gorgeous glory.

Shots were filled with the faint crimson marks just below Sander’s collarbone, his strong shoulders that still had a touch of sunlight in them, the elegant line of his neck that Robbe had gotten his first peek of at the trip to the coast and since then had spent more time fantasizing about than he would ever admit.

“Do you remember that trip to the grocery store the day we met?” he asked.

Sander glanced up at him with a lopsided grin. “Of course, Space Cowboy.”

“Hey. You weren’t as smooth yourself, you know,” Robbe gently scoffed. “Pushing me into cardboard boxes and all. Like, what the fuck was that, man?”

And Sander burst out laughing, which Robbe managed to snap a photo of just before Sander’s hands flew up and covered his face, the sudden motion appearing blurry on print, but his toothy grin and crinkly eyes stood crystal clear.

“I was nervous, _okay?_ ” he said, defending himself.

Robbe shot him a teasing look, his eyes gentle. “The least you could’ve done was help me put the boxes back in place, but _no, no_.”

Colour had sprung in Sander’s cheeks when he looked up at Robbe. Squeezing his knee, he breathed out a soft “Sorry.”

Robbe caressed Sander’s cheek with the back of his fingers, fondly shaking his head. “You’re lucky I was already gone for you.”

“Mm, I’m very lucky,” Sander murmured, his soft eyes roaming Robbe’s face, his torso.

It was so strange to Robbe that they had met only twelve months ago when it felt like they had known each other for years. Back then, he had known for a long time that his world was about to crack, that the small crevices were growing every day. And then, that Saturday morning at the beach house when a blonde boy was asking him about coffee and bacon and eggs, it finally burst, and Robbe felt everything in him rearrange, making room for Sander before he even knew his name.

His chest squeezed at the memory, and he smiled down at Sander, and Sander smiled back up at him.

In between clicks of the camera, Sander held some of the photographs up before him, observing them with a little smirk on his face. “Who knew you were such an artist, Robin?”

Robbe bit his lip. “It’s all your influence.”

Sander took Robbe’s hand and pressed a few kisses to the back of it. He then reached up and toyed with his necklace, letting it glide between his fingers. Robbe set the camera aside for a moment, unlocking the small clasp at the back of his neck. Sander gave him a puzzled look, but when Robbe reached down with the chain in his hands, his face softened, and he lifted his head a bit for Robbe to put the necklace around his neck. Robbe draped it across Sander’s chest before leaning back, gazing at him.

And he was so fucking _divine_ Robbe could cry.

“You’re so beautiful, Sander,” he breathed.

But he was more than beautiful, more than perfect even. He was just _more_.

Sander’s lips slowly spread in a little smile. “I love you,” he murmured, instinctively caressing Robbe’s thigh. Robbe lifted the camera, focusing and securing the moment on film; the chain lying like molten gold on Sander’s skin, draping over his nipple, the chaste angel sparkling in almost blasphemous contrast among the bruises left by Robbe’s mouth. Sander’s chin and his lazy, rosy smile were visible at the top of the frame, making Robbe’s heart skip several beats.

Sander’s gold-dappled eyes lazily travelled up Robbe’s upper body to his face, until they met his honey-gaze, and all Robbe saw was adoration and warmth and utter bliss.

“I love the way you look at me,” he murmured. “It makes me feel safe.”

Sander reached up and cupped the side of his neck. “You’re always safe,” he said, his thumb skimming over his jaw. “With me.”

Robbe nodded and swore he could feel his pupils dilate even further.

“What else,” Sander whispered without any trace of cockiness, just pure earnestness, “do you love about me?”

“How much time do you have?” Robbe joked.

Smiling, the older boy moved his hand to the back of Robbe’s neck, caressing it, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. “All the time in the world, baby.”

Robbe breathed out a chuckle. “Uhm,” he started, pretending to think. “I love… I love your voice and the way it can calm me down and turn me on in an instant because it’s just so fucking smooth and deep.”

Sander lightly and teasingly squeezed his neck. “I’ve noticed.”

Rolling his eyes, Robbe softly swatted his chest but went on, nonetheless. “I love that you’re able to read me like an open book. Although that’s both a blessing and a curse. I love that you’re so passionate, that you never do things by halves. I love how you sometimes talk a mile a minute because you’re just so excited to tell me something.”

He swallowed.

“I love that you always seem to know when to text me, because your name always pops up on my phone whenever I miss you the most. I love that you’re so unabashedly affectionate, that you kiss me in front of my friends even though I blush every time. I love that you feel safe with me too, that you’re not afraid to show how you feel.”

“Do you also love when I’m being clingy and needy?” Sander budded in, a tiny hint of self-deprecation in his eyes.

“I _especially_ love when you’re being clingy and needy,” Robbe smiled, his thumb drawing small circles on Sander’s waist.

“I love,” he went on, “the way you look early in the morning when you wake up, with bed hair and a wrinkled shirt and traces of drool in the corner of your mouth.

Sander snorted. “Charming.”

“Very,” Robbe laughed. His gaze dropped to Sander’s shoulders, his pretty collarbones, a tingling flowing through his chest.

“I love how you feel when we have sex,” he said quietly. “And how, sometimes, you just _want_ me, and it can’t wait. How you sound and how you look. I love you in bed, basically.”

The corners of Sander’s mouth quirked up. He released the soft grip on the back of Robbe’s neck and slowly slid his hand down his chest, licking his lips as his fingertips brushed his nipple, making Robbe’s breath hitch slightly.

“I love the way you touch me. Everywhere. With your beautiful hands and lips.” Robbe’s voice was not as steady anymore, and Sander’s hand travelled further downwards, gliding across Robbe’s stomach, feeling his lean muscles jerk against his palm. He stroked his waist, his bony hip, before splaying out his fingers and digging them into his soft flesh.

“I love the way you love me. I just love you,” Robbe said, adding with a quiet, almost trembling chuckle, “There. I think your ego is well-fed now.”

Sander propped himself up on his elbow, grabbing at the junction of Robbe’s neck and shoulder. “Come here,” he said.

And Robbe leaned down, meeting Sander’s lips halfway.

“I love you, Robbe. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.” Sander mumbled against him. He brushed their noses together before laying back down, his eyes half-lidded. “By the way, you look really sexy and tempting when you’re all focused,” he said, gesturing to the photos scattered around them.

The corners of Robbe’s mouth lifted in a crooked smile. His focus on the photography began to slip when Sander’s deft fingers slowly wandered back down his stomach, always astounded by his responsiveness to Sander’s touch.

“Sander,” he said in a low, warning tone.

“What?” Sander smirked, raising an eyebrow, his eyes mischievous and challenging. “Don’t you wanna practice your skills in erotic photography, Robin?”

A tingling erupted deep in Robbe’s stomach.

Sander’s hand slowly made its way into the soft hair low on Robbe’s abdomen. Robbe cursed under his breath as all the blood in his body seemed to run southwards at once, his love-drunk teenage boy hormones coursing through him. Sander’s fingertips trailed down Robbe’s length, just light brushes, and before Robbe even had time to register what was happening, Sander had licked his thumb and swiped it across the most sensitive part, teasing. His name slipped out of Robbe’s mouth in a stuttering, appreciative exhale.

A warmth ran through Robbe’s body as he felt Sander hardening completely against him. He almost audibly gasped when Sander wrapped his fingers around them both, stroking gently. Sander tilted his head in the direction of the seemingly forgotten about camera in Robbe’s hand.

“Take a photo of us like this,” he said, his voice both soft and demanding.

A bit shaky, Robbe held the camera to his eye, focusing the shot on Sander’s pretty fingers at work around the both of them and clicking.

“Yes,” Sander half sighed, half moaned, and Robbe couldn’t repress a low hum from escaping his throat.

The photo slowly appeared at the top, and Sander snatched it. He kept leisurely, lazily, moving his hand, up and down, as the photo developed. His fingertips effortlessly brushed all of Robbe’s ridges just right, not enough for any release but exactly what was needed to make Robbe’s mouth water for more.

“Fuck, Robbe,” Sander smirked when the image appeared, feeling his possessiveness of the younger boy flare. “We really have to hide these well. We can’t have anyone seeing you like this, so beautifully hard for me.”

He turned the small square around for Robbe to see, and Robbe licked his lips at the sight. The lighting made the veins along their lengths and on the back of Sander’s hand stand out. His ring flashed and his abs looked even more defined, and, unthinkingly, completely on instinct, Robbe rolled his hips, sliding along Sander.

Sander’s eyelashes fluttered, his mouth going slack as he let out a stuttering breath, gripping them both a bit tighter, the photo dropping out of his hand and onto the mattress.

“Do that again,” he whispered, already bucking his hips to seek friction.

And Robbe moved again, this time deliberately, with more purpose, and it was dizzying. Sander’s head fell back against the pillow, and he looked up at Robbe through his long, dark eyelashes. He tightened his grip around them, his brows knitting, colour spreading high in his cheekbones. Robbe cupped his jaw, watching Sander lean into the touch, nuzzling his cheek against his palm. He parted his glistening lips, and Robbe knew what that meant. He traced Sander’s bottom lip with this forefinger, pulling it down a bit, feeling Sander’s hot breath on his skin. The tip of a wet, glimmering tongue met his finger, slowly circling it, and Robbe cursed as he pushed in between Sander’s lips, studying with heavy eyes how they closed around him. The heat of Sander’s mouth felt almost scorching when he began sucking his finger, his pupils blown wide. He looked so into it that Robbe couldn’t help but thrust into Sander’s fisted hand with more fervour, and when he let his middle finger skim Sander’s lips, Sander willingly opened up, tongue immediately meeting his finger.

Enthralled, Robbe raised the camera anew, had to capture him like this. The ghost of a smirk flashed across Sander’s face at the sound of the photo ejecting.

“Baby,” Robbe heard himself almost purr. Sander hummed around him, the vibrations of his deep voice sending another wave to the already growing pool of heat in Robbe’s stomach.

The air in the room felt freezing on his spit-coated fingers when Sander pulled off, but that only lasted a moment as Sander then licked a fiery stripe all the way from the top of Robbe’s palm to the tip of his fingers in the same way he would have done, had he been down between his legs instead. He then swallowed his fingers down again, and the glorious suction almost made Robbe toss his head back. His necklace on Sander’s chest glimmered along with his glistening tongue, and Robbe couldn’t take the sight of him anymore.

Abandoning the camera in the sheets, he drew out of Sander’s mouth, and the sudden movement made a string of saliva fall down Sander’s chin. He only just had time to wipe it away with the back of his hand before Robbe gracelessly pulled at his shoulders with his drenched fingers, making him sit up and messily crashing their lips together. Letting his hands run down Robbe’s waist, his thighs, Sander helped him manoeuvre his legs around his hips and settle deeper into his lap. Robbe twined his arms around his neck, and Sander gasped into his mouth when he began rocking his pelvis, dragging himself against Sander in smooth motions.

Sander splayed out his fingers on the small of Robbe’s back, holding them snuggly together, while his other hand sneaked in between them, fist closing around both of them again, brushing and stroking.

“Fuck,” he heard Robbe sigh, and Sander could to do this all day, feeling Robbe glide through his hand, hearing him come undone.

Robbe began trailing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up the line of his jaw, and when one of his hands twisted in Sander’s hair, a hoarse moan ripped from Sander’s throat and he automatically tilted his head, granting the younger boy better access.

Robbe was exquisite like this, naked in his lap, sucking his earlobe between his lips, placing kisses filled with tongue and teeth down his neck, his collarbones, dragging his hips tightly against his. But so was he when he ate his breakfast in the morning, all puffy-eyed and heavy-limbed, and when he came over after a long day at school, tossing his backpack aside and slumping down on Sander on the bed in a full body hug, falling asleep with his lips lingering on his chest. And Sander wanted to put lilacs in his hair and draw stars on his cheekbones and spread him out on expensive silk.

When Robbe reached the curve where Sander’s neck met his shoulder, he licked up the light, salty sheen of sweat, catching the golden chain with his teeth. What an entirely new sensation it was to nip at his own necklace draped around Sander’s neck, the cool chain and flaming skin delicious against his wet tongue. He now understood why Sander loved it so much.

Turning his face, Sander pressed his lips to Robbe’s temple, making Robbe drag his mouth up his throat, his bottom lip catching on his chin before softly springing back up. They pressed their foreheads together, and Sander looked down at their bodies, at them moving in sync, sliding against each other. He swirled his thumb around, making Robbe involuntarily arch his back when his nail grazed the slick, sensitive tip.

“You feel so good, Robbe. You’re so good,” Sander said, his voice thick with desire, his breathing laboured.

Robbe smiled when their heavy gazes met, so sweet and lovely, and Sander had never been more intoxicatingly in love with him than he was right now. He kissed him, sinking his teeth into his lower lip while Robbe clung to his shoulders, whimpering softly, digging his nails into his skin. Pressing his lips in a downward line, Sander nibbled at Robbe’s throat, his collarbones, chest, tongue flicking across nipples. It was as if there were flames in the darkness of Sander’s mouth, and Robbe loved the way it burned. He hummed longingly, and Sander could tell by the slightly uncoordinated movements of Robbe’s hips that he wouldn’t last much longer.

It had been Sander’s intention to prolong the moment, to just linger in the warm, fuzzy feeling that Robbe was giving him. But Robbe was making that really hard with all his sweet, broken moans, his eyebrows furrowing prettily, so Sander moved his hand from between them and placed it behind him on the mattress, supporting himself, his other arm curling around Robbe’s hips, pulling him impossibly closer. Like this, he tightly and hungrily rocked them together, his heartbeat speeding up in his chest, the delicious, throbbing ache gathering rapidly in his abdomen.

Their lips brushed with every movement, sometimes closing around one another in sloppy, tongue-filled kisses, and Sander revelled in how their sounds mingled in their blazing mouths.

But then Robbe pulled away, whispering Sander’s name through shuddering breaths, and Sander felt his thighs tighten and tremble around him.

“Yes, baby,” Sander sighed, encouraging, brushing messy locks away from Robbe’s forehead, watching him as if hypnotised as Robbe spilled himself, their bodies so close that the heat of him painted Sander’s stomach as well.

When Robbe pressed their foreheads together, Sander repeatedly ran his hand up and down his back, soothing him, while still slowly moving his hips, close to the edge.

Robbe wrapped his fingers around Sander, thumb circling the most delicate part of him, and he watched Sander’s eyelids flutter closed, glossy and dawn pink. Sander’s breathing quickened, and Robbe swallowed every gasp, pressing their mouths, their faces, stomachs together, until nothing was between them but his hand working Sander to his peak.

For a moment, Sander felt it in every crevice of his body, as if thousands upon thousands of feathers brushed every nerve ending, a plunging shiver going through him. He thought he could hear Robbe whispering things to him, was almost certain there was an _I love you_ at one point, but his gasping breaths and broken moans nearly drowned it out. And then he went completely limp in Robbe’s arms.

“God, Sander, you’re just so…” Robbe exhaled, at a loss for words at the sight of Sander all sweaty and tousled and dreamy, their sticky torsos sliding together with every inhale.

Sander held him loosely around the waist and slumped his forehead onto Robbe’s shoulder, his breathing hot and damp on his chest as he let out a panting giggle. “Fuck, we really are horny teenage boys, huh?”

Hooking his forefinger under Sander’s chin, Robbe’s tilted his head back up. “Horny and in love.”

The older boy rubbed the tip of his nose against Robbe’s. “And in love,” he affirmed, taking in Robbe’s droopy eyes and practically glowing cheeks, his little pleased smile on his bitten and raspberry-red lips. “You’re hot,” he smiled.

Robbe breathed out a laugh before reaching for the box of tissues in the drawer of Sander’s bedside table, dragging a few across their stomachs, roughly cleaning them up. Sander watched him with droopy eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of them only having a few more hours together before Robbe eventually had to go home.

“Stay over tonight?” he asked, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “Please.”

Sighing, Robbe looped his arms around Sander’s neck. “I really want to, but I should probably sleep at home tonight.”

A glimpse of disappointment flashed through Sander’s eyes, but they quickly softened as he nodded in understanding.

Robbe slid his fingers up Sander’s nape and into his hair, carding through it and tugging lightly. “You could come home with me, though?”

“Yeah? Your mom wouldn’t mind?”

“Sander, you know she loves you. You’re always welcome.”

The older boy leaned in and kissed him and nodded in agreement to Robbe’s suggestion.

“I’ll just text her,” Robbe smiled, pecking him a final time.

“Mmkay” Sander mumbled against him.

“Oh god, my legs are dead,” Robbe said as he disentangled himself from Sander, his thigh muscles still quivering a bit with every movement. Sander chuckled and patted Robbe’s hip, scooting further up the bed to rest his back against the wall.

“Could you throw me my t-shirt and underwear?” he asked when Robbe put on his own. Robbe fished the clothes up from the floor and tossed it at him, and Sander just managed to catch his boxers before they landed in his face.

Robbe snickered and went to his jeans that were slung over the backrest of Sander’s desk chair, searching through the front pocket. He hadn’t worn them since Friday night, had either been in a pair of Sander’s sweatpants or nothing at all.

“Hm,” he hummed as he checked his phone.

Sander glanced at him. “What?”

Rummaging through his backpack, Robbe got out his own camera and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Moyo wants me to delete the footage.”

“Really?"

Robbe nodded.

“Then do it,” Sander said bluntly, shrugging his shoulders as if it was the most obvious decision in the world.

“But.” Robbe’s thumb hovered over the delete button. “What if he regrets it?”

“Robbe.” Sander tilted his head and gently nudged the younger boy’s thigh with his foot, catching his attention. “Put yourself in Moyo’s shoes here. Like, would you want to enter a stupid dance competition with someone who makes you drive your mom’s car while only having a driver’s permit, makes you crash that car with their reckless behaviour, then only worries about their parents finding out without even considering for a second the consequences the situation could have for you.”

The younger boy looked back down at the screen, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two small figures clad in red hoodies. Rustling sounded from beside him and then Sander’s arms circled his neck from behind, his chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I love you so much” Sander murmured in his ear, knowing that the thoughts were still churning in Robbe’s head. “You’re the _sweetest_ , most considerate and tolerant human being, and I know that the worst thing you can think of is upsetting people. But, baby, you really need to do this.”

And Robbe knew he did.

“Do it, do it, do it,” Sander quietly chanted.

Sighing, Robbe kissed Sander’s forearm and pressed the button.

Pumping his fist in the air, Sander whooped, and Robbe breathed out a quiet chuckle, reaching over to place the camera on the bedside table.

“She’s nowhere near as fucking talented as Moyo, anyway,” Sander said under his breath, his chin still on Robbe’s shoulder.

“Sander…” Robbe said, craning his neck to catch his eye.

“What?” Sander widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence. “I’m just stating the obvious, aren’t I?”

Robbe just gave him a little reprimanding headshake, biting his lip to stop a smile from growing.

“Now _these_ on the other hand…” Sander dropped the subject and searched through the sheets for the photos, finding the one of his hand wrapped around them both. “These we’ll definitely keep.”

“Mhm,” Robbe smirked, finding the picture of his fingers deep in Sander’s mouth. “I think I’ll take this one home with me, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Sander said, his voice all silky. “Are you gonna use it for when you’re daydreaming about me?”

Robbe swatted him on the forehead with the photograph which made Sander snicker into his shoulder. “Who says I daydream about you?”

“Well.” Sander gently kissed up the line of Robbe’s neck, sounding smug. “There’s something about those steamy texts you sometimes send me during your classes that tells me that you are. Oh, and I think those facetime calls where you aren’t wearing that much clothing sort of give you away too.”

“Oh, shut up,” Robbe gently scoffed, his cheeks flooding with colour, and Sander laughed joyously.

“I like those facetime calls,” he said in a low tone while moving around Robbe and straddling him, knees on either side of his hips, looping his arms back around his neck. “And you know I daydream about you. About your hands, stomach.” He punctuated every word with a kiss to Robbe’s jaw. “Your long hair.” His fingers slid into the hair at Robbe’s nape. “Your hips, thighs…” His lips brushed the shell of his ear, a smirk in his voice when he whispered, “Your mouth-watering _di_ –“

“ _Alright_ ,” Robbe cut him off, reaching up to clamp a hand over his mouth. When a childish wet lick of a tongue met his palm, he gave Sander a pointed look and wiped it off on his shirt, making Sander snort.

He gave Sander a quick kiss, then another because he could, and Sander chased his lips when he pulled back.

“You know,” Sander said when he took in Robbe’s overall dishevelled look, a lopsided grin spreading on his lips as he reached for the polaroid camera that had been pushed to the foot of the bed. “I think we should document the aftermath as well. Capture what we look like when we’ve basically fucked all morning.”

Robbe groaned in feigned unwillingness but didn’t put up much of a fight when Sander pulled them down to lay on the bed, feeling safe and secure with Sander’s arm around him, his head on his shoulder. He laughed into Sander’s cheek, his teeth grazing him, when Sander fumbled with a button and nearly dropped the camera square on his face, and Sander fully melted, the way he always did whenever that beautiful sound filled his ears. He turned his face and drank in Robbe’s grin until he was one big, angel-bright smile too. His stretched upper lip caught on Robbe’s cupid’s bow as he took the photo, and Robbe gazed back at him with a look that was all love and blown pupils.

While the image developed, Sander closed his lips around Robbe’s, just lazily kissing him, and Robbe reached towards his waist, his hand going under his shirt. He tucked his head under Sander’s chin when they pulled away, sighing contentedly.

“Look,” Sander said softly, holding the photo down for Robbe to see.

And Robbe was reminded once again that his heart beat for one boy only. He felt Sander nuzzle his nose into his hair, inhaling, and a warmth spread in his chest at the realisation that this was what other people saw when they looked at them looking at each other; that they saw smile lines and dreamy gazes and adoration.

Robbe tilted his head, gazing up at Sander, small smiles on their lips. “Can I keep it?” he murmured, voice just above a whisper.

“Mhm,” Sander hummed, running his hand down the line of Robbe’s back.

They lay like that for a bit; Robbe on Sander’s chest, Sander caressing his back, almost lulling him to sleep. But then Sander shifted, the sudden movement startling Robbe a bit.

“Come, we need a shower,” Sander announced, grabbing Robbe’s hands and hauling him to his feet.

Robbe raised his eyebrows, shooting him a knowing look.

“Robbe,” Sander sighed. “I _can_ keep my hands off of you for fifteen minutes, you know.”

The younger boy squeezed his hands. “Oh, can you, now?”

“Yes, I can,” Sander nodded, looking very sure of himself.

Robbe snickered. “You have yet to prove that, though.”

Letting his eyes travel up and down Robbe’s body, a smirk slowly formed on Sander’s lips. “Yeah, and that’s not gonna be today, I’m afraid.”

“That’s what I thought,” Robbe sighed, teasing.

“Take a shower with me, _young man_ ,” Sander said in a dramatic tone, twirling a groaning but smiling Robbe around, before pushing him in front of him, out of the room and towards the bathroom.

And ten minutes later when Sander rinsed his hair under the spray of the shower, his eyes closed, his skin shiny and wet, droplets gliding through his eyelashes, Robbe stood with his back against the tiled wall and gazed at him. No matter how much he looked like it, Sander wasn’t just a figment of his dreams. He was a real, living human being existing independently of Robbe, but still chose to spend as much of his time with him as he could. A comfortable warmth flowed through Robbe’s body, and he revelled in how they were so different yet so akin. He knew they belonged together, his skin knew it, his brain knew it, his heart knew it.

Sander rubbed his hands over his face before blinking his eyes open and looking back at Robbe, steam swirling around them. He reached up towards Robbe’s jaw, swiping away a bit of remaining soap with his thumb, his lips stretching in a soft smile.

“Your eyes,” he breathed. “They look really happy.” His hand slid down Robbe’s shoulder, his arm, drawing him closer by the waist. “And your pupils are huge,” he added with a quiet chuckle.

Robbe caressed Sander’s cheek. “Yours are too.”

“Yeah,” Sander smiled, his cheeks rosy from the heat of the shower. “They tend to get like that when I’m with you.”

And Robbe fiercely hoped that Sander would always be this sappy with him; that this deep sensation of tenderness that soaked his bones whenever Sander looked at him, talked to him, laughed with him, would never disappear.

When Sander leaned closer, whispering sweet things in his ear, gently kissing his neck, Robbe got the overwhelming feeling that it wouldn’t.


End file.
